Two Destinies Act I: I am Dragonborn
by Allies of Light and Grey
Summary: A what-if describing the arrival of two Dragonborn to face the Dragon Crisis. One seeks to help those in need. The other seeks blood. Nord male Dragonborn and Khajiit female Dragonborn. Rated for violence and sexual themes.
1. Migration

**We were wondering what might happen if there were two Dragonborn around at the time of Alduin's return. After all, the Greybeards did say that they have no way of knowing if there's only one Dragonborn at any given time. The story will have three acts. Acts I and II take place during the events of Skyrim with a few flashbacks, but we'll be adding our own spin on things and split the quests between the two Dragonborn. Act III takes place after the events of Skyrim. Also, we'll be writing Tamriel on a realistic scale, so instead of taking twelve in-game hours to travel to to the other side of Skyrim, it'll take several real-time days. And cities will be realistically large as well.**

**Mark will be writing for Baldor. Stephanie will be writing for Se'avva. Baldor Blade-Breaker is based off of the Dragonborn who appears in promotional work. Se'avva Jasmeen is inspired by Ezio Auditore da Firenze from the Assassin's Creed series.**

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**4E 201: 9 Last Seed, Sundas, 10:40 AM - Bruma, Cyrodiil**

"Watch where you're going, you blind bastard!" the Imperial woman yelled. She had tan skin and brown hair that came down to her chin. Her face was fairly smooth, with a small scar on her cheek. She wore a dark blue dress and black shoes. "You nearly tripped me!"

Baldor turned his attention to the Imperial woman. He was a large Nord with a heavily muscled physique. He had light skin and short, brown hair that he kept neatly combed. His light-blue eyes reflected the lightly falling snow. He wore leather armor, boots, and guantlets. An iron sword rested in its sheath by his left leg, with an iron dagger right below it. Baldor glanced down really quick and smirked back at the woman. "Yes, obviously it's my fault you almost tripped. It has nothing at all to do with the flea carpet by your feet."

The Imperial woman looked down to see a white and brown husky by her feet. "Aeta! I told you to stay in the house, you bad girl!" She made a gesture pointing to her home. Aeta gave a small whimper before walking back. The woman looked back at Baldor. "Sorry about that."

Baldor gave a light chuckle. "It's alright. Take care." He turned around and continued on his way. The Nord warrior passed a peculiar building with red curtains and flowers all over the windows. "Can't believe this brothel used to be a chapel of Talos." He shook his head in disappointment before walking north.

"Fresh venison! Straight from the wilds!" A Bosmer stood behind his merchant stand, fully stocked with freshly killed game. He had lightly tanned skin and had his blond hair in a mohawk. His yellow eyes gave off an air of friendliness. The Bosmer wore a complete set of fur armor, minus the helmet. His bow sat on display on a rack behind him. "I guarantee you won't find a fresher steak unless you kill the cow yourself!" The Nord a few feet away from the stand caught the Bosmer's attention as he walked closer. "Good morning, Baldor! Come to pay one last visit before heading north?"

"What sane man wouldn't want a final taste of your goods, Talas?" Baldor said with a genuine smile. "Any suggestions?"

"But of course!" Talas proceded to gesture to each item as he described it. "Here's a fine rabbit that's been killed and gutted just last night. I also have a complete selection of steaks to choose from if you're interested. And here's a nice slab of venison. Killed the deer myself just an hour ago."

Baldor held up the slab of venison and sniffed it. "Mmm. You can practically smell the grass it ate. I think I'll take the venison slab and a rabbit."

"Excellent choice!" Talas grabbed a buckskin bag and tossed the venison inside, then grabbed a rabbit carcass off of the rack and put it in there as well before sealing it with a rope. "Here you go, my good man. I'd normally charge thirty septims, but I'll make an exception for you today. How does twenty four sound?"

Baldor fished through his purse. "That leaves me with sixteen," he muttered to himself. "I'll have to find some bandits on the way."

"What was that?"

"Nothing, just thinking out-loud." He placed twenty four septims on the table. "Here you go."

Talas happily sweeped the coins with one hand into his other over the table, then set down the bag of meat. "Thank you very much, Baldor. Good luck in Skyrim!"

"Take care, Talas." Baldor took the bag and placed it in his backpack before walking off. He maneuvered his way through the twists and turns of the city before coming to the north gate. There was a statue next to it, depicting a Thalmor Justicier wielding a mace. Baldor had heard rumors that the statue was originally of a Champion of Cyrodiil who brought an end to the Oblivion Crisis two hundred years ago. The Thalmor scoffed at the idea that a single mortal could do such a thing, and insisted that they were the ones who saved Nirn and that the statue was always of a Justicier. Baldor never payed much attention to politics, and merely brushed aside any concerns. He reached into his backpack and put on his leather helmet, then approached the gate and acknowledged the two guards, an Imperial and a Redguard. "Just heading out."

"Be careful out there, citizen," said the Redguard. Baldor pushed the gate open and stepped into the wild, taking one last look at Bruma before shutting the gate again.

**4E 201: 12 Last Seed, Middas, 6:30pm - Cheydinhal, Cyrodiil**

The sun was setting in the distance. In just half an hour it would be night. A Breton man hunched over the rail of the Cheydinhal bridge. He had his black hair tied back in a ponytail and wore a set of red fine clothes. He had a small beard and no mustache. He casually enjoyed the sound of the river below him. "Remove your hand from my pocket or I'll cut it off," he said without turning his head.

Se'avva, a Khajiit woman who had been kneeling beside him, stood up. She had dark brown fur and black tiger stripes. Her straight, light-brown hair came down to her shoulders, with most of it flowing freely while a tiny bit was tied in a ponytail. Her yellow, slitted eyes showed signs of mischief. Se'avva had a generous figure, with broad hips and enviable breasts, and a rather muscular frame. The Khajiit was wearing a standard belted tunic and simple sandles. She chuckled. "I must be losing my touch." Surprisingly, while she had the standard raspy voice of a Khajiit, she had a Cyrodiilic accent rather than an Elsweyrian accent. (Just imagine her sounding like a Khajiit from Oblivion rather than Skyrim.)

"Get lost before I call the guards." The Breton scoffed at Se'avva and walked away.

The Khajiit smirked. "Time to go."

Eddric walked through the residential district of Cheydinhal. "Who does that woman think she is? The nerve!" He glanced behind his back, seeing the silhouette of a Khajiit woman. "Is she following me?" He turned the corner, hoping to lose her in the alleys. Every turn that he made, he saw the woman either following him or peaking around a corner. "Alright, that does it." Eddric turned around another corner and waited as he heard the footsteps get closer. As he saw a shadow, he quickly lunged and pinned the Khajiit woman against a wall, making her scream. "I warned you, you little bitch," he said with obvious frustration in his voice. "And now I'm going to take your eyes." He raised the blade to her eye before pausing. The Khajiit had blue eyes and light grey fur. She trembled in fear at the sight of the knife. "You're not... Why are you following me?!"

The stranger struggled to speak with Eddric's arm against her throat. "Someone payed me to."

"Who?" At that moment, Eddric felt an unbearable pain enter his back. Unable to even scream, blood trickled from his mouth and he felt his strength fade impossibly quickly. "How in the name of..." He collapsed as he passed out.

The Khajiit woman fell to the floor in relief as Se'avva stood over her. Se'avva cleaned her dagger before sheathing it. "I told you you wouldn't get hurt," she said with a smirk.

"You're an asshole," the other Khajiit said.

"And you're fifty Septims richer," Se'avva rebutted. She kneeled over Eddric's body and placed two fingers on his neck. "Dead." She fished through his pockets and pulled out a gold ring with an emerald on it. "Good, it's still here."

"What is that?" The other Khajiit asked.

"The Duke's signet ring," Se'avva explained. "They'll think he was a thief who got unlucky." She tucked it back into his pocket.

"So what now?" The other Khajiit asked as she dusted herself off.

"You should get home before the guard start asking questions. I'm headed to Skyrim."

**4E 201: 16 Last Seed, Sundas, 11:00 PM - One mile south of Ivarstead, The Rift, Skyrim**

Baldor sat infront of a campfire, using the bodies of three dead bandits as his seat while the other two served as kindling. Light snow fell freely and Baldor could only see a few feet away. "Well the bandits in Skyrim sure aren't any different from Cyrodiil. Damn is it colder, though." Baldor was wearing a set of fur armor that he got off the bandits. He took a bite of his roasted pig. "I miss Talas' catch." The sound of footsteps approaching alerted him. He drew his iron sword in preperation. He saw a silhouette coming towards him. "Hey, I don't want trouble!" he shouted.

"Calm down, I'm not here to fight!" Se'avva yelled back. "Just trying to get out of this damned blizzard." She has wearing a set of steel armor, complete with a horned helmet. She carried a steel greatsword on her back. She saw the dead bandits and grinned. "Fighter, eh?"

Baldor sighed and sheathed his sword. "Sorry. You just never know. Have a seat," he said with a smile.

The Khajiit sat down on a log and took a rabbit carcass out of her backpack. "Thanks. What brings you out here?" She stabbed a dagger into the rabbit and held it over the fire.

"I just got here from Cyrodiil. I thought returning to my roots might be a good idea."

"How's that working out?"

"Let's just say I'm surprised my roots are still here in this cold," Baldor joked. They both chuckled. What about you?"

"I'm new to Skyrim too. I have to say I miss the sands of Elsweyr."

"Oh, what brings you here?"

Se'avva pulled the charred rabbit away from the fire. "I'm looking for someone." She took a bite.

"My name's Baldor Blade-Breaker, by the way."

Se'avva swallowed the piece of meat in her mouth. "Se'avva Jasmeen."

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**Mark: We'll try our best to update once a week.**


	2. Captured

**4E 201: 17 Last Seed, Morndas, 5:00 AM - Rorikstead, Whiterun Hold, Skyrim**

The first slivers of sunlight slowly began to appear over the tundra, bringing much needed warmth to the crops. The healthy farm around the village spread out a mile to the east and south. A few of the villagers were already up and planting seeds into the freshly combed soil.

A hot glow to the north illuminated the houses surrounding it. The clanging of metal against metal and the grinding of metal against stone served as a wake-up call to those who were not up yet. A blacksmih Nord woman was hard at work at her forge, getting an early start to the day. She had medium-length brown hair that came straight down to her neck and light blue eyes. Her normally light skin was stained and darkened from the soot of her forge. She had a small nose and mouth, giving a somewhat cute appearence, but her brow, jaw, and cheeks were strong and pronounced. Years of mining and banging a hammer against an anvil left her with an athletic body that slight hints of muscle. She had a red stylish tattoo on her right cheek that arched up under her eye and disappeared behind her neck. She was wearing standard clothes for a blacksmith, with a dirty apron that has seen better days. An Amulet of Zenithar adorned her neck. Her old boots were scuffed and worn, but still reliable and kept her feet dry. She did not wear any protective gloves, and yet her charred hands seemed completely unharmed by the red-hot metal. The heat from the forge caused her to wipe the sweat from her face, dirtying it further. She pulled a new sword out of the forge and set it on the anvil, repeatedly banging a hammer against the blade and straightening it out. Each bang required more and more effort to shape the rapidly cooling metal. "There!" The Nord woman picked up the new steel sword and held it infront of her face. She slid one finger against both sides of the blade, checking the sharpness. Her hand was not even fazed by the blistering hot steel. She dropped it into the trough of water to cool it off. "First new blade of the day!" she said with pride. Her voice was rather high and feminine, but sounded very strong and confident.

"Hail, Fire-Holder," said a voice behind the woman. She turned around to see a Whiterun guard standing at the bottom of her steps.

"Oh, good morning, sir!" said Fire-Holder. "How's the patrol?"

"Actually, I just finished my shift. I'm getting ready to eat up and get some sleep." He untied the sheath of his sword from his belt. Holding it in both hands, he stepped forward with caution. "I was wondering if you could sharpen my sword? I chipped it from fighting a sabre-cat."

Fire-Holder took the blade in both hands and pulled it free from its sheath. It was a fine and reliable steel sword. Various scratches showed its age and battles. She examined the edge and saw a noticeable dent. Rubbing one finger on the dent, she checked to see how severe it was. "Yeah, I think this can work! Five septims and it'll be as sharp as the day it was made."

The guard fished through his purse and pulled out five gold coins. "Thanks, Fire-Holder."

He dropped the gold into Fire-Holder's hand. "Pleasure doing business! It'll be ready before your next shift!"

"I appreciate it." The Whiterun guard noticed something behind Fire-Holder. "Say, what's that wheel?" he asked curiously.

Fire-Holder turned around and saw what he was talking about. It was a wheel made entirely of steel. Instead of six large spokes, it had numerous tiny steel cables connecting it to a steel rod with numerous gears attached to it. "Oh, this thing? It's a little project I'm working on after studying a few dwemer machines."

The guard nodded in interest. "Looks like a neat invention. Well, I won't waste anymore of your time. Take care." He bowed his head before walking off, making his way to the tavern.

Fire-Holder laughed and grabbed a steel ingot off of a table before sitting infront of her grindstone. She calmly sang to herself as she spun the wheel and started sharpening the guard's blade. "There once was a hero named Ragnar the Red who came riding to Whiterun from ole Rorikstead."

**4E 201: 17 Last Seed, Morndas, 6:30 AM - One mile east of Helgen, Falkreath Hold, Skyrim**

Baldor walked west along the road, stretching his limbs to help wake himself up. Se'avva was several feet ahead of him and adjusting her helmet. They were travelling in the same direction, but kept their distance so they wouldn't be mistaken for travelling together. The snow was still prominent, but not nearly as much as the night before.

The sound of carraiges being pulled caught their attention as it grew progressively louder. They turned around to see several Imperial soldiers walking along five horse-drawn carriages. In each carriage were other soldiers in blue armor who were bound and chained down. "You two! What are you doing out here?" The captain demanded. She was dressed head-to-toe in in heavy Imperial armor.

"I'm just walking," Baldor said in confusion.

"So am I," said Se'avva. "What's the problem?"

"The problem is that we're hauling a caravan of these Stormcloak traitors. Two armor-clad travellers just happen to be in our way? Are you trying to tell me that's just a coincidence?" she asked accusingly.

"That's exactly what we're telling you," said Baldor. He had one hand ready to unsheath his sword.

"I don't believe you," said the captain. "I think you're spies for the Stormcloaks!" The Imperial soldiers began circling around Baldor and Se'avva.

"Someone's a paranoid bitch," said Baldor.

"Just who in Oblivion are the Stormcloaks?" Se'avva demanded.

"Don't play dumb. Everyone in Skyrim knows about the Stormcloaks! So there's two possible answers for why you're here. You're either Stormcloaks, or immigrants. Which is it?"

Both travellers froze as she asked that. "Uh... immigrants," Baldor said sheepishly.

"Then you're under arrest!" Knowing they were heavilly outnumbered, Baldor and Se'avva surrendered and raised their hands. The captain walked over to Se'avva and grabbed her arms to begin tying them. "Any thing to say in your defense, cat?" Se'avva remained silent. "Oh, look what I have here!" She held up a bottle of skooma infront of the Khajiit's face. "Let's add possession of drugs to the charges.

Se'avva angrilly spit on the captain's face. "You bitch! You planted that! You know damn well that isn't mine!"

The captain took off Se'avva's helmet and punched her in the side of the head with her gauntlet, knocing out the Khajiit and making her fall to the floor. "And assualt." She made her way towards Baldor.

"Hey, I'm going quietly," he said quickly.

"I'm charging you for your friend's crimes as well."

"What? But I don't even know her!" Baldor tried slowly backing away. "This is police brutality!"

An Imperial soldier behind Baldor hit him in the back of the head with a mace, knocking out the huge Nord. "Confiscate their equipment and load them onto the carts," the captain said. "Let's get this war over with."

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**Yes, we are well aware that Rorikstead does not have a blacksmith. That's why we chose it. Remember that we're making these cities much larger than in the games. Fire-Holder will indeed play an important part of this story, and you'll learn her name sometime later. If your curious about her tattoo, it's facepaint option #13 in character-creator. Who wants to guess what Fire-Holder is inventing? It's probably obvious.**


	3. Black Wings Unfurled

**4E 201: 17 Last Seed, Morndas, 7:00 AM - Helgen, Falkreath Hold, Skyrim**

Clarity began to return to Baldor and Se'avva as the repeated bumping of the carriage shook them awake. Baldor yawned as he slowly opened his eyes. Se'avva popped her neck and rolled her shoulders. They found themselves in one the five carriages with the captured soldiers, bound just like them. They were wearing brown tattered rags and their weapons were gone. In the carriage with them was a Nord wath long blond hair, a braid, and a small beard. Sitting near the edge was a Nord with first on his face and his brown hair slicked back, also in rags, and a well-dressed Nord with brown hair, a nice coat over his armor, and a gag in his mouth. "Well this feels familiar," said Se'avva.

"What? Being a prisoner?" Baldor asked.

"No, sitting in a carriage with a bunch of soldiers," she said sarcastically. "Of course I mean being a prisoner!"

The blond soldier turned his attention towards Baldor and addressed him. "Hey, you two. You're finally awake. You were trying to cross the border, right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there." He turned his head to the other ragged prisoner.

The thief spit at the soldier's feet in anger. "Damn you Stormcloaks. Skyrim was fine until you came along. Empire was nice and lazy. If they hadn't been looking for you, I could've stolen that horse and be halfway to Hammerfell." He then turned his attention to Baldor and Se'avva. "You two. You and me - we shouldn't be here. It's these Stormcloaks the Empire wants."

"We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief," the Stormcloak retorted.

"Shut up back there!" shouted the Imperial soldier steering the wagon.

Baldor looked towards the front of the caravan to see one other carriage in front while the other three were behind them. At the very front of the caravan was an Imperial General with a shaved head wearing golden armor. "Don't remember him at the ambush." Baldor said.

Se'avva looked over to see who she was talking about. "They must have regrouped with him while we were out-cold."

The thief turned to the gagged Nord. "And what's wrong with him, huh?"

"Watch your tongue," the blond Stormcloak said furiously. "You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King."

The thief titled his head in confusion. "Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm? You're the leader of the rebellion. But if they've captured you..." A look of realization appeared on the thief's face, and was quickly replaced with horror. "Oh gods, where are they taking us?"

The Stormcloak looked towards the front in defeat. "I don't know where we're going, but Sovngarde awaits."

The thief began to panic and tried to shake free of his binds. "No, this can't be happening. This isn't happening."

"Settle down, coward," the Stormcloak said sternly. "It's not going to make a difference."

Baldor calmly casted Flames in one hand and tried burning his binds. "You're wasting your Magicka," said Se'avva.

"Huh?"

"I've been in enough jails to know that Imperial guards dip their binds in an oil that's resistant to fire." The Khajiit likewise casted flames on her own binds to demonstrate.

Baldor gave up and accepted his fate. He leaned back and let his mind wander as he waited for the end to come.

The Stormcloak decided to break the silence. "Hey, what village are you from horse thief?"

The scared thief looked at him in confusion. "Why do you care?"

"A Nord's last thoughts should be of home," the Stormcloak said with sorrow. He leaned back and closed his eyes. "I'm from Riverwood. My sister runs the mill. The folk like to say that she runs the whole town."

The thief looked at his feet, still fearing what was to come. "Rorikstead. I'm... I'm from Rorikstead. I had a huge crush on the blacksmith. I don't think she even noticed though."

"What's her name?" Baldor asked with interest.

"I don't know," the thief admitted. "The village took to calling her Fire-Holder."

"I was born in Senchal," said Se'avva. "But I moved to Anvil in my teenage years."

"What made you move?" the Stormcloak asked.

"I'd... rather not talk about it." Se'avva arched her head up as she remembered that day...

**4E 190: 10 Mid Year, 12:00 PM - Senchal Docks, Elsweyr**

"Uncle, this isn't fair!" a fourteen year-old Se'avva shreaked. Her hair was worn in a neat bun. She was almost full-grown, and needed just a few more inches to grow into. She was wearing a blue dress and brown boots, as well as carrying a small brown sachel. "I can't just let them get away!"

Se'avva's uncle had grey fur and black hair tied in a ponytail. He wore had green eyes with regular pupils. He wore a sailor's outfit and black boots. "My dear Se'avva. You are not old enough to fight. They will kill you if you go after them. S'val cannot allow you to get hurt as well. Go to Anvil. You will be safe there."

The docks were reinforced and designed to last for decades without repair. The sky was a little cloudy, but the sun still shined brightly and wind conditions provided perfect weather for sailing. Se'avva and S'val stood beside a small ship that was preparing to set sail.

"I can't just-" Se'avva started before her uncle hugged her.

"Go. S'val will tell the captain you are ready."

Se'avva reluctantly hugged her uncle S'val before boarding the ship. She turned right and entered the door leading below the deck. She walked down the hall, ignoring the other immigrants she passed by. She reached her room and stepped inside. She reached into her satchel and pulled out a plain, brown book. She sat on the bed and slid the satchel underneath. She held up the book, titled, "_A Kiss, Sweet Mother_" and opened it. "So you wish to summon the Dark Brotherhood? You wish to see someone dead? Pray, child. Pray, and let the Night Mother hear your plea..."

**4E 201: 17 Last Seed, Morndas, 7:05 AM - Helgen, Falkreath Hold, Skyrim**

Se'avva snapped out of her memory when she heard someone speak. "General Tullius, sir. The headsman is waiting." She looked up and saw the caravan approaching a large walled city. The Imperial soldier who spoke was standing on the bridge above the gate.

The General leading the caravan shouted back. "Good. Let's get this over with!" The gate opened and General Tullius rode in another direction while the caravan travelled through the city. Citizens booed as they saw the Stormcloaks being presented like animals.

The thief closed his eyes in fear and began to pray. "Shor, Mara, Dibella, Kynareth, Akatosh. Divines, please help me."

The blond Stormcloak watched as General Tullius rode up to a Thalmor Justicier. "Look at him. General Tullius the Military Governor. And it looks like the Thalmor are with him. Damn elves. I bet they had something to do with this."

"Wait, his name is Tullius?" Baldor asked.

"Yeah," said the Stormcloak.

"Ha! That sounds like the name of a giant teddy bear!" Baldor shouted while laughing. Se'avva and the Stormcloak soldier laughed with him. Ulfric could be heard chuckling behind his gag.

"Even in the face of death, you defy the Empire. You'd have made a fine Stormcloak," the soldier said in admiration. He took the time to look around, ignoring the booing citizens. "This is Helgen. I used to be sweet on a girl from here. Wonder if Vilod is still making that mead with juniper berries mixed in. Funny, when I was a boy, Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel so safe."

Baldor sighed and spoke up. "My sister and I were raised in Skingrad. We used to have so much fun running around playing Vampire Hunter."

**4E 189: 25 Hearthfire, 9:00 PM - Skingrad, Cyrodiil**

"I'm going to find you, vampire!" an eleven year-old Baldor cried playfully. He was wearing brown clothes and had two pieces of tree bark tied to his front and back like armor. He swung a stick like it was a sword and held a third piece of bark like a shield. His hair was long and moppy.

"Try as you can, mortal! But I am a child of the night!" Baldor's eight year-old sister shouted back. She had short brown hair and light blue eyes. She was wearing a green dress and had two fish bones in her mouth to resemble fangs.

The two children laughed as Baldor playfully chased his sister through the streets of Skingrad, lit up by only a few torches. Baldor's sister quickly turned around and lunged at Baldor, pretending to bite him on the neck. "Nooooo!" Baldor shouted. He drove his stick under his sister's arm, pretending to stab here. "Die, demon!"

Baldor's sister stepped back as she held her side. "No! I am vanquished!" She dramatically covered her brow with one hand before falling to the ground.

"The vampire is dead. But I cannot celebrate now that I am infected. I perform one last service for my people." Baldor slid the stick accross his neck, pretending to slit his throat and then fell to the floor.

Both children sat up giggling. "That was fun Baldor!"

"Next time, I get to be the vampire, Lia!" said Baldor.

"Okay!" Said Lia. "And I get to be the brave and noble hunter of the night!"

The children both laughed again as adults passed by, paying little attention. A Skingrad guard calmly walked up to them. "Hello, kids. You might want to head home. It's getting late and there's a storm coming in." Not a second later, a few drops of rain landed on the children's heads.

"Okay, we'll go!" said Lia.

"Thank you, sir," Baldor said. Both children got up and dusted themselves off.

The rain started off lightly at first, but in the half hour it took for them to reach the other side of the city, a heavy downpour crashed down on them. Baldor the tree bark armor over his head while Lia used the shield. They reached an old, rundown house that had been abandoned for years. Baldor went up to one of the windows and held the boards up for Lia. She crawled through and then held them up as Baldor entered. The young children shivered in their wet clothes and walked upstairs together. They came into a large bedroom that was empty save for two bedrolls infront of a fireplace. In the corner of the room was a pile of fire wood that they collected. They grabbed a few logs and threw them into the fireplace. They nodded to each other and casted Flames simultaniously onto the wood, igniting it in a warm and very inviting fire. They huddled infront of it to dry off.

"I had so much fun today!" said Lia.

"Yeah. Can't wait for tomorrow!" Baldor said. They sat infront of the fire for a few more minutes before falling asleep in their bedrolls, allowing the roar of the fire to lull them to sleep.

**4E 201: 17 Last Seed, Morndas, 7:09 AM - Helgen, Falkreath Hold, Skyrim**

"Who are they, daddy? Where are they going?" Baldor snapped out of it as he heard a child speak. He looked behind and saw a child speaking with his father at the inn. The citizens were screaming louder than ever.

"You need to go inside, little cub," said the boy's father.

"Why? I want to watch the soldiers."

"Inside the house. Now."

"Yes, papa." The boy reulctantly got up and entered the inn.

The caravan began slowing down infront of a large watch-tower.

"Whoa!" said the carriage driver. The carriages all came to a stop.

"Get these prisoners out of the carts. Move it!" the Imperial captain commanded.

The cowardly thief nervously looked up. "Why are we stopping?"

The blond Stormcloak glared at him. "Why do you think? End of the line." Everyone in the carriages reluctantly stood up. "Let's go. Shouldn't keep the gods waiting for us."

Ulfric jumped down from the carriage first. The thief tried to desperately plead as he jumped down next. "No! Wait! We're not rebels!"

Baldor jumped down next. "Face your death with some courage, thief," barked the Stormcloak soldier.

The thief began hysterically crying. "You've got to tell them! We weren't with you! This is a mistake!" The soldier jumped down next.

"Pussy," said Se'avva as she was the last one to jump down. "It's just a little death."

The Imperial captain shouted towards all five parties. "Step towards the block when we call your name. One at a time."

The Stormcloak sighed with exhasperation. "Empire loves their damned lists."

The other parties gathered as their names were called as well.

The Imperial soldier infront of Ulfric's party was a Nord wearing the standard uniform minus the helmet. He had long brown hair and a very muscular build. He carried a book with a list of names. His voice was soft and comforting as he spoke. "Ulfric Stormcloak. Jarl of Windhelm."

The gagged Jarl fearlessly walked up to the block. The crowd roared with anger as his name was called. Some were angered by his presence, while others who supported him were angered by his capture. "It has been an honor, Jarl Ulfric!" said the blond Stormcloak.

"Ralof of Riverwood." Hadvar said next. The blond Stormcloak followed loyally behind his Jarl. "Lokir of Rorikstead."

The thief snapped and yelled at the top of his lungs. "No, I'm not a rebel! You can't do this!" He defiantly ran past the captain, trying hopelessly to escape.

"Halt!" the captain demanded.

Lokir sprinted for life, not looking back as he shouted, "You're not going to kill me!"

Infuriated, the captain barked, "Archers!"

An Imperial archer raised his bow and aimed at Lokir. He fired ad struck the coward in the spine, killing him instantly as he fell to the ground in a lifeless heap. The crowd turned hysterical at the sight, screeching in either cheer or protest.

The captain sadistically looked back at the two remaining prisoned. "Anyone else feel like running?"

The Imperial soldier looked at the two with confusion. "Wait! You there!" He pointed at Baldor. "Step forward." Baldor obliged and approached with dignity. "Who are you?"

"My name is Baldor Blade-Breaker," he said proudly.

The soldier sadly scrawled Baldor's name into the list. "You've picked a bad time to come home to Skyrim, kinsman." He then looked at the captain, curious of what to do. "Captain, what should we do? He's not on the list."

The captain crossed her arms with indifference. "Forget the list. He goes to the block."

The soldier glared at his superior with disapproval. "By your orders, captain." He looked back at Baldor with a look of guilt. "I'm sorry. At least you'll die here. In your homeland. Approach the block, Baldor."

Baldor nodded and did as he was told.

"And what's your name?" the soldier asked Se'avva.

She marched up to the soldier with impatience. "Se'avva Jasmeen."

Again, the soldier wrote her name down. "You with one of the trade caravans, Khajiit? Your kind always seems to find trouble."

"Of course not. Did you see other Khajiit with me?" Se'avva gave him a look of annoyance.

"I suppose she's to go to the block as well, captain?"

"If you have to ask..." the captain said with a yawn.

The Imperial soldier almost ripped the book in half from rage. "Yes... captain." He looked back at Se'avva. "I'm sorry. We'll make sure your remains are returned to Elsweyr."

"I'd prefer Anvil," Se'avva interrupted. "I have better memories there."

"I'll see to it," the Imperial soldier promised. He wrote the information next to her name. "Follow the captain, Se'avva."

The captain walked towards the chopping block with Se'avva following right behind. The soldier stood next to the headsman.

General Tullius approached Ulfric with anger. "Ulfric Stormcloak. Some here in Helgen call you a hero. But a hero doesn't use the power of the Voice to murder his king and usurp his throne." The crowd again yelled at the top of their lungs.

Ulfric angrilly grunted through the gag, to no effect.

Tullius accusingly pointed at Ulric. "You started this war, plunged Skyrim into chaos, and now the Empire is going to put you down, and restore the peace!"

**4E 201: 17 Last Seed, Morndas, 7:12 AM - Summit of the Throat of the World, Whiterun Hold, Skyrim**

An ancient grey dragon sat on top of the highest mountain on Nirn, meditating in the Way of the Voice. He had clear signs of age, such as chipped horns and tattered wings. As the dragon was lost in thought, a strange disturbance began to take place. The ancient dragon snapped out of his meditation and watched as a strange aura with white dots appeared in front of him. "Tiid ahraan bex, (_The Time Wound opens_)" the dragon said to himself. "Alduin daal. (_Alduin returns_)"

The Time Wound shined with magnificent lights before a large explosion occured. A massive dragon stood infront of the ancient dragon. His scales were dark than the blackest night, and his eyes glowed red with fury. He was covered in wicked sharp spikes from head-to-tail. Even his wings were covered in deadly spikes. The black dragon craned his head and released a sky-shattering roar. The grey dragon gazed upon the black dragon in horror.

**4E 201: 17 Last Seed, Morndas, 7:13 AM - Helgen, Falkreath Hold, Skyrim**

All of the spectators looked up in confusion as a great roar echoed through the sky. The sound was so powerful that they came to a dead silence.

"What was that?" asked the soldier with the list.

Tullius casually brushed it off. "It's nothing. Carry on."

The captain bowed. "Yes, General Tullius. Give them their last rites."

A priestess raised her arms and began to pray. "As we commend your souls to Aetherius, blessings of the Eight Divines upon you, for you are the salt and earth of Nirn, our beloved-"

As soon the priestess mentioned the Eight Divines, however, a random Stormcloak soldier angrilly stepped forward. "For the love of Talos, shut up and let's get this over with!"

The priestess was taken aback by the defiance. "As you wish..." she said with annoyance.

The fearless Stormcloak approched the chopping block. "Come on, I haven't got all morning!" The Imperial captain stood behind him and pushed him down, forcing him onto the block. "My ancestors are smiling on me, Imperials. Can you say the same?" The Stormcloak never lost his composure as the headsman raised his massive axe. He closed his eyes and welcomed Sovngarde as the axe came down and his head fell into the box. The captain nudged his corpse with her boot until it fell over.

A female Stormcloak soldier protested. "You Imperial bastards!"

With that, the crowd of citizens entered a frenzy, shreeking like a horde of banshees.

"Justice!" cried one man.""Death to the Stormcloaks!" a woman cried.

Ralof gazed upon his headless comrade in admiration. "As fearless in death as he was in life."

The Imperial captain casually pointed at Baldor. "Next, the Nord in the rags!"

**4E 201: 17 Last Seed, Morndas, 7:13 AM - Summit of the Throat of the World, Whiterun Hold, Skyrim**

**(Authors' note: So the conversation between Alduin and Paarthurnax is actually in Draconic, but not every word has a translation, so we'll just type it in English.)**

The black dragon slowly looked up at the grey dragon before him. "Paarthurnax? You've grown ancient."

"I have awaited your return Alduin. For millenia I have waited," said Paarthurnax.

Alduin looked upon Paarthurnax with interest. "Millenia? And yet to me it was only an instant."

"Our brothers are all dead. Hunted down like dogs," Paarthurnax taunted.

"Then I will show these mortals a terror not witnessed since my last reign." He let out a low, demonic cackle.

Paarthurnax growled and opened his mouth. "Yol toor shul!" A mighty stream of fire escaped the ancient dragon's mouth.

Alduin quickly countered with his own Thu'um. "Feim!" Alduin entered an ethereal state and the fire harmlesly passed through him. Once Paarthurnax's Shout finished, Alduin shouted again. "Wuld nah!" With an amazing burst of speed, Alduin tackled Paarthurnax to the ground, jaws at his neck. The black dragon prepared to finish the job before something else caught his attention. He stepped back and released Paarthurnax from his grip. "I sense a great power. It reminds me of the traitor Miraak. It seems our father Akatosh has chosen another Dovahkiin to face me.

Paarthurnax hunched over as he attempted to recover. "Not one. But two."

Alduin craned his head up. "Yes, you are right. The two were in such close proximity that it felt like one." He turned to face his former comrade. "I let you live because you were an ally once. But when next we meet, I shall not hesitate to end you. For now, I must deal with two cumbersome ants." The World-Eater dove off of the mountain and released another might roar as he took fight.

**4E 201: 17 Last Seed, Morndas, 7:14 AM - Helgen, Falkreath Hold, Skyrim**

The crowd once again was silenced by a second, much closer roar. This time they stayed silent.

"There it is again. Did you hear that?" asked the soldier with the list.

The captain looked on with annoyance. "I said, next prisoner!"

"Yes, the prisoner has a name, you know," Baldor said in annoyance.

The soldier with the clipboard acknowledged his remark. "To the block, Baldor. Nice and easy."

Baldor walked up to the chopping block and looked at the headsman's axe as the captain stood behind him "Oh good, I could use a shave." Se'avva, all of the Stormcloaks, and even some of the Imperials laughed at his gallows humor.

"Shut up," said the captain. She put one hand on him and forced him to his knees. "You're not supposed to be happy." She shoved him onto the block.

Accepting his fate, Baldor looked up at the headsman and decided to crack one last joke. "Make sure not to mess up my hair. I've got a date in an hour and she'd kill me if I wasn't presentable."

This time, many more people laughed, even some of the citizens and the headsman. Tullius and the captain just rolled their eyes. "Great, we went from justice to comedy hour," the captain whispered to Tullius.

The headsman raised his axe and prepared to end Baldor's life. At that moment, Baldar noticed a beast flying in the distance, announcing its presence.

"What in Oblivion is that?" Tullius yelled in surprise.

"Sentries, what do you see?" the captain commanded.

"It's in the clouds!" an Imperial soldier shouted.

The female Stormcloak from earlier could not believe the word she was about to say. "Dragon!"

Alduin landed on the tower, creating a rumble that knocked over the headsman. The crowd panicked at the sight of the ancient beast. The black dragon Shouted, turning the sky into a void of swirling cloud as a meteor shower rained down. Baldor struggled to find the willpower to stand up. Se'avva was blown back, hitting a wall. The Stormcloaks took advantage of the deadly miracle. Ulfric took a dead Imperial's sword in his bound hands and drove it into the dirt with all his might. He then carefully brought his binds to the edge and cut them loose. He tore off his gag and announced, "Stormcloaks, regroup!"

The headsman clumsily tried to stand up, only to shout again. "Fus ro dah!" The blast knocked the headsman back down, killing him as his head slammed against the stone ground. The crowd entered a mass hysteria and began running like ants to the nearest exit. Baldor was knocked onto his side.

"Don't just stand there kill that thing!" Tullius ordered. "Guards, get the townspeople to safety!"

Baldor and Se'avva both found the strength to stand inspite of their blurred vision.

"Hey, kinsman! Khajiit! Get up!" Ralof called. They both looked over at him. He was standing by the entrance of another tower. "Come on, the gods won't give us another chance!" Not needing to be told twice, the confused adventurers bolted towards him with their hands still bound.

They reached the tower and stopped to catch their breaths as Ralof shut the door behind him. "What the fuck just happened?" Baldor asked as he sat against the wall.

"A once in an era miracle, that's what!" Se'avva tried gnawing at her binds, to no success.

In the tower with them were a few Stormcloaks, some wounded. Their leader, Ulfric sighed in relief as he moved from the wall he was pressed up against. Ralof approached him in astonishment. "Jarl Ulfric! What is that thing? Could the legends be true?"

Ulfric glared at Ralof. "Legends don't burn down villages." The sound of Alduin's roar reminded everyone that they were far from safe. "We need to move. Now!" Ulfric ordered.

Ralof obeyed and started running up the circular stairs. "Up through the tower, let's go!" The rest of the Stormcloaks stayed behind to ted to the wounded. Se'avva gave up on her binds and reached down to help Baldor get to his feet.

"What are you waiting for?" Ulfric demanded. "Up the stairs! Now!"

"This way, friends. Move!" Ralof called. Baldor and Se'avva began running up the stairs with him. "With me. Up the tower!"

They reached the halfway point of the tower, but the roof had partially collapsed and covered the rest of the stairs with rubble. A lone Stormcloak was rolling the obstructions clear. "We just need to move these rocks out of the way!"

The wall behind him broke apart as Alduin crashed through, knocking out the soldier. "Get back!" Ralof ordered. The adventurers heeded his warning and pressed against the wall.

"Yol toor shul!" Fire escaped the World-Eater's throat and roasted the Stormcloak, killing him insantly. He then flew off to continue terrorizing the city. The force had knocked Baldor back causing him to roll down the stairs along with Ralof. Se'avva managed to get proper footing and stayed next to the new hole in the wall.

Ralof quickly recovered and ran back up, but Baldor was unconscious at the bottom of the stairs. He pointed to a small building that had its roof detroyed below them. "See the inn on the other side?" Ralof asked. "Jump through the roof and keep going!" Se'avva hesitated at the sight of the gap, which would kill her if she missed, and looked at Ralof. Again he gestured to the inn. "Go! We'll follow when we can!"

Se'avva breathed deeply and took a leap of faith. "I'm such an idiot!" she yelled as she rapidly fell towards the inn. She came to a roll as she landed, absorbing the impact and causing her to only grunt in slight pain. She decided not to waste time and kept moving forward, reaching another hole in the floor that lead to the bottom. The Khajiit jumped down and landed on the boards of the first floor, where she heard a voice.

"Don't look up, just focus on me!" She stepped outside to see the Imperial soldier from earlier who called their names. Standing behind him was an elderly Nord. He called out to the little boy from earlier. "Haming, you need to get over here. Now!" Haming was standing over the body of his wounded father. He turned around and ran back when he was called. "Thatta boy! You're doing great!" Not a second later, Alduin came down and landed infront of Haming's father. "Torolf!"

Alduin opened his mouth and prepared his Shout. "Yol..."

Torolf summoned the last of his strength to say, "That's it, son. Make me proud."

"Toor shul!" With that, Alduin roasted Torolf alive before flying off again.

"Gods... Everyone get back!" The soldier commanded. Se'avva's appearence caught his attention. "Still alive, Jasmeen? Keep close to me if you want to stay that way." He then turned to the old man, who was hugging his crying grandson. "Gunmar, take care of the boy. I have to find General Tullius and join the defense."

Gunmar nodded at the soldier. "Gods guide you, Hadvar."

Hadvar ran through the streets, avoiding panicking citizens. Se'avva followed close behind. They came to a small alley as Alduin flew overhead. "Daar Lein los dii! (_This World is mine!_)" cried the dragon.

"Stay close to the wall!" Hadvar ordered. Alduin landed on top of a wall to their left and they safely pressed against the wall behind his wing.

"Yol toor shul!" Alduin fried an unseen before flying off again.

"Quickly, follow me!" Se'avva stayed behind Hadvar as he continued through the alley, entering a destroyed hut.

**Meanwhile**

"Hey, get up, Baldor," said Ralof. He stood over Baldor's unconscious body and lightly slapped him. He now had an axe equiped on his belt.

"Huh?" Baldor jolted awake.

"Come on!" Ulfric ordered. "We're sitting ducks in here!"

Ralof grabbed Baldor and helped him to his feet. "We've got to find a way to the keep."

Ulfric unlatched the door and held the frontline for his soldiers, raising a sword. "This way!" They brushed past several screaming citizens, ignoring them and coming to a pile of collapsed wood and stone. "We will not die today!" Ulfric inhaled as he faced the rubble. "Fus... ro dah!" The sound of thunder echoed as a powerful wave escaped Ulfric's throat. Some of the rubble was cleared, but they still had a long way to go. "Fus ro dah!" He cleared a bit more rubble.

Baldor felt something big and mean crash behind him. He turned around and shook in terror as the World-Eater stood before him, looking directly at him. The terror Baldor felt drowed out the noise of the mayhem surrounding him. Alduin glared into Baldor's eyes. "Dovahkiin..." he spoke. Alduin arched his neck and towered over the Nord. "Yol..."

"Fus ro dah!" Alduin was interrupted by Ulfric blasting him with his Voice. The rubble had been cleared enough to squeeze through. Ulfric stood ready with an axe in hand. "Ralof! Take the prisoner and get into the keep!"

"But Jarl Ulfric-" Ralof started.

"That's an order. The rest of us will try to get the citizens to safety," Ulfric ordered.

Alduin again tried to attack. "Yol..." He roared in frustration as Ulfric swung his axe and struck him. The dragon was unharmed, but was again interrupted.

"Go! Now!" Ulfric shouted.

Infuriated, Alduin flew off to attack another part of Helgen.

Ralof bowed in obediance. "I'll see you in Helgen, my King!" He started running towards the gap in the rubble. "Baldor, quickly!" The confused Nord quickly followed. They began squeezing through the small gap.

**Back to Se'avva**

"It won't die, it just keeps coming!" shouted an Imperial soldier.

"Come on. Give me your hand, I'm getting you out of here," another shouted."

Hadvar and Se'avva exited the hut and approached General Tullius, who was standing behind his soldiers as they fired spells and arrows at Alduin. "Hadvar! Into the keep, soldier, we're leaving!" Tullius ordered.

"Zu'u Alduin, zok sahrot do naan ko Lein! (_I am Alduin, most mighty of any in the World!_)" Alduin roared as he swooped down and grabbed an Imperial soldier in his talons.

Hadvar obeyed and ran towards the keep. "It's you and me, Se'avva. Stay close!" Se'avva began to follow, only for Alduin to shout at her, ragdolling the Khajiit and slamming her against a collapsed house, causing a wooden stake to impale her side.

Se'avva yelled in agony and tried to move. It was no use. The spike was sticking out by about three inches. Alduin circled around and tried to finish her off. "Yol... toor-" Again he was interupted as an Imperal soldier blasted a double Fire Bolt in his face.

"Se'avva!" Hadvar ran back and tried to help her.

"Help me up!" she yelled. "I can cast Healing in the keep."

Hadvar nodded and helped her up, slowly sliding her off of the spike. Once she was free, Se'avva put her hands to her side in pain. "Final stretch! Let's go!" said Hadvar.

Alduin flew around, attacking the soldier that interrupted him. "Fen du hin sille ko Sovngarde! (_I will devour your souls in Sovngarde!_)"

Hadvar and Se'avva managed to reach the keep while at the same time Ralof and Baldor squeezed through the rubble. "Ralof! You damned traitor. Out of my way!" Hadvar yelled with his sword drawn.

Ralof likewise drew his axe. "We're escaping, Hadvar. You're not stopping us this time."

The two enemies stared at each other, ready to come to blows before Hadvar relented. "Fine. I hope that dragon takes you all to Sovngarde!" Ignoring each other for now, they crossed paths to opposite gates of the keep.

Ralof ran towards the eastern gate to the keep. "Blade-Breaker! Come on. Into the keep!"

"With me, Se'avva. Let's go!" Hadvar called as he approached the western gate.

Baldor and Se'avva both stopped to acknowledge each other. "Good luck. I hope you find whoever you're looking for." Baldor said with a bow.

Se'avva nodded back and grunted from the pain. "Take care."

With that, Baldor ran towards Ralof who opened the gate for him. Hadvar likewise opened the gate as Se'avva approached.

* * *

**If you're curious about the official ages, Baldor is 23, born 4E 178: 20 Rain's Hand. Se'avva is 25, born 4E 176: 8 First Seed.**


End file.
